Anticlimax
by Not An Elf
Summary: London is being assaulted on all sides, and the Resistance has withered away as a result of Kitty's mysterious disappearance. Nathaniel, aided by two of Kitty's old partners, must risk all in an attempt to find her as the city begins to fall.
1. Prologue

Anticlimax  
Prologue

Kitty dropped from a low overhang into the dim alley with a soft thump. Her breathing was rapid and shallow, not to mention quite loud, but she couldn't stop and do anything about that any more than she could take care of the wound in her upper right arm, which was hurting in earnest now. In the past two years that particular arm had taken more than its fair share of abuse, what with the injury received from her rooftop battle with the werewolves (she now bore a scar from that episode) and the bleeding bullet wound she was putting up with now.

She crouched low and surveyed her surroundings. She could hear voices, relatively close, and the quick footsteps of two people with heavy footwear. There wasn't a suitable hiding place in the alley, and, predictably, it dead-ended after ten feet. But there was a fire escape.

Gritting her teeth, she swung herself up onto the ladder as quietly as she could, her wounded arm protesting at the movement. She hauled herself up onto the first landing, the metal rattling under her feet. She winced at the noise and started up to the second platform, reaching it just as the two men drew level with the alley. She flattened herself as much as she could against the bottom of the landing and forced her breathing to slow.

The two of them peered suspiciously into the narrow space, and one of them produced a flashlight and switched it on. A powerful beam illuminated the entire area, right up to the wall at the end. After tilting the light up so that it touched on the barbed wire coiled around the top of the wall, the man directed the beam at the side opposite the fire escape. Kitty's heart thumped frantically, so forcefully that she was surprised the platform she was lying flat against didn't rattle. The light reached the first landing, slid upwards…it touched on the strands of hair drifting in front of her face, paused…and kept going up.

There was a low snarl, and Kitty realized with a start that the other man had gone. Even as she stared at the place where he had been standing, a huge, extremely hairy and wolfish creature loped out of the alley, still growling softly. It stiffened, rose up on its hind legs, and morphed into the burly man she had been running from for the past half hour or so: fangs and snout shrinking, claws retracting and losing their points, and hair seeming to be sucked back into the limbs as the body became steadily less like a wolf's and more like a human's.

"She's here," he said in a guttural voice, fitting for the man who had been a growling animal only seconds before. "Hiding."

Kitty's heart stopped for a moment, and then started pounding again, even harder than before. She had to get up to the roof, but she couldn't move without being seen….

But apparently someone above was fond of her, because at that precise moment a large moth flitted purposefully into the alley and right up to the place where she hid, flapping its dust-colored wings in her face.

"I've been looking all over for you," it whispered, somehow managing to sound disapproving even with its tinny voice.

"Cerebaton!" she hissed, never happier to see the persnickety, admittedly minor djinni (level two at best) that she and one of her comrades had summoned together, using incantations found in a stolen book. Although it was probably treated with a great deal more respect under her command than a magician's, it didn't stop the spirit from finding fault with practically everything she did. Still, with everything they'd gotten him to tell them about magic and the spirit world, along with his powers, he had proven himself invaluable despite his disdainful attitude.

The moth rolled its tiny eyes. "Obviously. You've gotten yourself into a fine mess this time: there are spheres everywhere. Typical…"

She knew this rant, and she didn't have time for it.

"Save it," she whispered fiercely. "Just put up a Concealment around us so we can get out of here – you can mock me all you like later."

With a grumble, the djinn fluttered its wings in an obviously significant pattern. Nothing happened that she could see, but the sound of the two men moving into the alley was strangely muffled now.

"Thanks," she whispered, the moth scoffed quietly, and she slowly eased herself into a standing position. She started up the ladder to the next platform, careful to go slowly and quietly despite the pain it caused her arm. The Concealment might keep her safe for a while, but with their superior sense of smell the men below would figure out where she was soon.

A few minutes later she hoisted herself up onto the roof of the building, struggling to breath quietly. Cerebaton fluttered around her head, making annoying "tuh" sounds, and she waved a hand at him to keep him out of her face, hissing, "Cut it out!"

"Excuse me," he said sarcastically, "But I fail to see the use of getting trapped on a roof."

"We're not trapped," Kitty said sensibly. "You'll just need to transform into something large enough to carry me for a few minutes so we can get back to my flat. You can do that and maintain the Concealment, right?"

"Of course I can!" Cerebaton snapped, sounding deeply offended, and morphed into an enormous eagle, easily three times the size of a normal one. The sound of London's night life was still weirdly muted, so Kitty could assume that the Concealment was working as well as ever. She eased herself onto Cerebaton's back awkwardly, for a moment unsure of where to grip, and wound up seizing a clump of feathers between his wings as he took off from the roof abruptly, nearly dislodging her.

"Did you think about warning me?" she asked angrily. He didn't respond except to grumble about her "practically ripping out half my feathers," beating his large wings rapidly and bearing them in the direction of her home.

"Did you see if Penny got away safely?" she asked, the horror of the night's events coming back to her now that she had time to stop and think.

"I didn't," Cerebaton responded, indifference clear in his tone. "I was flying all around the blasted city trying to find you. I suppose the rest of them are–"

"Yeah," she broke in sharply, feeling a lump lodging in her throat against her will. She didn't want to have to think about what had happened right now, especially in front of the unsympathetic Cerebaton – it could wait until she was safely in her flat. Still, try as she might to think of something else, images popped up in her mind's eye: Joey, whose impatience had led to the whole disaster, lying on the ground, eyes blank and staring while blood streamed from the wound in his throat; one of the werewolves, jaws soaked with the red substance, leaping with a snarl at Sera, who was youngest and timid, probably bullied into going along; the flames leaping up from the warehouse, one of the security guards howling in pain, clutching a gashed and burned leg.

She swallowed deeply and blinked several times as Cerebaton began to descend in a lazy spiral, finally landing in the shadows near the back door. Kitty slid off his back and pulled out her key, which was hanging from a chain around her neck. She unlocked the door, checked to make sure there wasn't anyone watching, and pushed it open. Cerebaton, now in the form of a scruffy fox, slunk in after her.

She glanced at the clock as she moved towards her bedroom. Nearly one in the morning – good God. What she needed was to go to sleep immediately, and sort things out in the morning when her mind wasn't reeling.

"What, you're going to _sleep_?" Cerebaton demanded as she dropped onto her narrow bed and closed her eyes, willing the darkness behind her eyelids to remain undisturbed by any more gruesome memories of tonight's devastation. She could feel him staring incredulously at her from his perch at the foot of the bed.

"Now?" he persisted, his voice rising in pitch. "Are you insane? You don't have _time_!"

"What're you talking about?" she growled, his words not making any sense. The point was, she was away from the warehouse, from the roof…all she wanted was to lie down and not think.

Cerebaton huffed, and unexpectedly she felt the blast of (unnaturally cold) air against her face. Her eyes flew open to find the fox's muzzle inches from her own nose, its dark eyes piercing her and looking uncharacteristically wild.

"The spheres," he pressed. "They have a highly sensitive sense of smell. We passed a few on the way: it was unavoidable. Soon the Night Police will be knocking down the door."

The words took a moment to penetrate her exhausted mind, but when they did she sat bolt upright, all thoughts of sleeping gone. Beneath the horror, Cerebaton's uncharacteristic concern registered dimly. As if noticing this, the spirit added, "Personally, I could care less if you died – that would free me of my captivity. But if they get here, I'll be going down with you. They're armed with silver."

Kitty would have dearly loved to call him a coward as she grabbed what she called her emergency bag from under her bed, packed with spare clothes, water, and nonperishable food in case she was forced to run – but there was no time for insults. The reason for this being that her pursuers chose that moment to blast the front door apart. Two werewolves came lunging forward, growling so deeply Kitty could feel it in the soles of her feet.

A Detonation went off in their faces, and they fell back yelping, going from wolf to human form and back again. Kitty leaped over their writhing bodies and sprinted into the kitchen, towards the back door. Cerebaton was at her heels, going a little slower than he might have usually – the extensive magic he had been forced to use was probably taking its toll on him. His essence had already suffered the strain of four months' worth of enslavement. Whether to magician or commoner, the ache of being in the mortal world was the same.

Kitty burst out the door as another werewolf rounded the side of the flat. Something sharp drove into both of her shoulders, and with a cry she could herself lifted up, the jaws of the wolf closing right where her leg had been a second before. Cerebaton bore her upwards, grunting with the exertion, dropping her on the roof of the flat.

"Are you incapable of protecting yourself tonight?" he snapped despite the fact that his form was actually flickering; his power was almost completely drained. In answer, Kitty pulled a switchblade with a silver edge from her boot, which she had hoped (almost naively) that she wouldn't have to use.

Sirens were approaching – she could see the flashing lights from where she crouched on the roof with Cerebaton, who had changed into a small blackbird.

"Cerebaton," she murmured, watching the approaching lights, "I think you've done all you can. Go back to the Other Place, and return once your health is restored. If you can't find me here, see if Penny is still alive and go to her instead, and answer to her as if she was the one who had summoned you."

The bird nodded and vanished, leaving behind a faint wisp of smoke. Kitty inhaled deeply – her command had been wordy – and raised the knife as a man swung himself up onto the roof, a satisfied grimace on his face as he stared at her.

A sudden yell from below had them both turning. An explosion tore up half the street outside, rubble flying up to pelt the two on the roof.

"What the hell?" the man growled, and as if in answer to the question a silver figure leapt onto the roof, landing without a sound.

Kitty stood still and stared, transfixed by the ethereal beauty of the creature. Its form was vaguely human, though extremely slender and completely silver, and shimmering wings so thin they were almost completely transparent floated in the slight breeze. Hair of similar quality did the same, drifting about its blank, shining face in graceful arcs. Large, silver eyes that had no pupils locked onto Kitty's, and she felt something probing her brain. The sensation was enough to make her twist her head away, breaking eye contact and the vaguely disturbing feel of what she suspected was the creature's own consciousness.

There was a strangled cry from behind them: in their distraction, another entity, this one a djinn with the earthly form of a cougar, had also joined them on the roof. Kitty looked around in time to see the man fall, blood pumping from a wound that had torn all the way through his chest. The cougar looked indifferent, turned to the silver thing near Kitty. Some communication must have passed between them, for the cougar disappeared without even attempting to attack her.

"What are you?" Kitty demanded of the creature, knife raised threateningly. It studied her with those unnerving silver eyes. Again, the thing began probing into her mind; she jerked her head to the side to break their connection, watching it out of the corner of her eye. It didn't move to speak, but she could hear it's answer as clearly as if it was from her own thoughts: _I am called an Oracle. And you, Kitty Jones, have been chosen._

"What are you–"

Before she could finish the question, the Oracle stretched out its extraordinarily thin arms. Soft, pulsating light enveloped them both, and Kitty felt herself floating…

A minute later, both had vanished completely from the rooftop, from London altogether. The other party who had caused the explosion had also disappeared. By the time other officials, John Mandrake among them, reached the scene, there was no live person there to tell them what had transpired.


	2. Ash, Ash

_Disclaimer_: The Bartimaeus Trilogy belongs to Jonathan Stroud. (Did you all see the cover for Ptolemy's Gate? If you haven't, go look now – it's so pretty and red.)

**_Warning: _**I've come to realize that the most popular pairing in this section by far is Nathaniel/Kitty. Actually, it's really painfully obvious. In fact, all but two stories that have a pairing stick Nathaniel and Kitty together. While I like the idea of them together, I also dislike the lack of variety concerning the pairings in this section. Thus, the pairings that will develop in this fic will be Bartimaeus/Kitty and Nathaniel/OFC. If this puts you off, that's fine – you don't have to read this. If you stick around, please, _please_ don't hesitate to point out anything that bothers you about my OFC. I'm viewing this as an opportunity to work on developing original characters, and I'd really like to improve. So, constructive criticism in this respect (and any others) is very much appreciated. Many thanks to everyone who reviewed the prologue; I hope you stay interested.

_Elph_

Anticlimax  
Chapter 1: Ash, Ash

Nearly a year after Kitty's disappearance, Penelope Cross was in the break room of one of the buildings that made up Whitehall, dipping a tea bag in and out of a cup of steaming water. Her glasses, which she had finally taken off after being forced to wipe them clear of condensation one too many times, were lying by her elbow, arms neatly folded. She was also steadfastly ignoring George Ffoukes and Calvin Trigg, two junior ministers who had taken to talking loudly about commoners' general incompetence whenever she happened to be in the vicinity. It didn't help that she had once dropped an armful of photocopied documents in the middle of one such discussion.

Just as she binned the used teabag and picked up her cup, the welcome scent of the beverage filling her nose, the door to the room opened and John Mandrake, head of the department, strode in. Ffoukes and Trigg immediately broke off their conversation and greeted him respectfully. Penelope, who was standing at the sink with her back to the doorway, didn't turn around. She had long harbored a sort of fearful dislike for her new boss; when she had been a part of the Resistance he had been their greatest and most dangerous enemy. She picked up her teacup and started towards one of the unoccupied tables, but before she had gone two paces Mandrake cleared his throat and said, "Earl Grey with lemon, if you don't mind."

With a last forlorn look at her own tea, she set the cup down on the table and went back over to the cabinets. The still-raw scars on her back throbbed painfully as she reached up to take a clean cup off the top shelf, and she bit her lip. The injury had been inflicted on her by a member of the Night Police in wolf form. The claws had raked along her back, slicing through her skin like paper as she attempted to escape over one of the fences surrounding the warehouse.

The memory of the disaster, as always, set her heart pounding. The explosion had ripped apart a good half of the building and killed three of her comrades instantly. Two more had been attacked by the werewolves moments later, and died trying to escape. She and Kitty had gone off in opposite directions, the leader escaping first. Cerebaton, who had taken his sweet time in answering Kitty's frantic call, had gone off after her. Penelope had managed to stay a step ahead of her pursuers until she reached the fence, and once she was over, even with the three long gashes across her back, she was free: by the time the two officers had shifted back into their human forms and scaled the fence, she was a third of the way across the Thames and her scent was lost to them.

She had changed jobs immediately, and became a secretary to a man who worked in real estate. He took a liking to her, and, as he was well connected, secured a job for her in Whitehall, apparently laboring under the misapprehension that this would be a generous favor. Unable to come up with a plausible reason to refuse, and also because she had watched _Lord of the Rings_ a bit too recently and had Pippin's line "The closer we are to danger, the farther we are from harm" running through her mind, she accepted the offer, albeit reluctantly.

And here she was now, squeezing the juices of a lemon wedge into the tea of a dangerous enemy. She wasn't sure if John Mandrake was aware of exactly who she was (he certainly hadn't given any indication that this was so), but it was definitely possible. She had to be careful, in case she was being more closely watched than she suspected. This was her excuse for neglecting the duty Kitty would have wanted her to take on now that she had disappeared: leading the Resistance.

Their leader had organized a sort of order of succession in the event of her death. If Kitty was killed or captured, Joey was to take her place. After Joey there came Marissa, and then Penelope. Joey had been killed by one of the Night Police, and Marissa had died in the explosion, so the position of leader had fallen to Penelope, a position she didn't want to accept. For one thing, she had no idea how to help the Resistance recover from the blow the loss of six top members had dealt. For another, whatever nerve she had had a year ago seemed to have disappeared: she no longer felt the courage she needed to do something so dangerous right under Mandrake's nose.

She was a coward, she reflected disgustedly as she swept the puckered lemon wedge into the dustbin. She was thinking only about herself. Still, how–

Her train of thought was broken as the door to the room swung open and Gregory Hamilton, the youngest magician in this department next to Mandrake, hurried in. The three other magicians looked up curiously.

"I was speaking to Marcus," Hamilton began, abandoning preliminaries, "Did any of you know that Jessica has a Resistance member in the Tower?"

Penelope found her head whipping in his direction against her will, betraying too much interest. Fortunately, the others were ignoring her completely, struck by this news. As she turned her head so that she was only watching Hamilton out of the corner of her eye, Ffoukes set his teacup down on the table with a bit too much force – some of the contents sloshed over the rim and splashed onto the table. Hamilton didn't wait for an answer, but kept speaking.

"Yeah – they caught him smuggling an Elemental Sphere into one of Makepeace's plays. Less than an hour after he was caught he confessed to being a part of the Resistance before, and that he'd hoped to revive the group by tossing the Sphere into one of the magicians' boxes."

"What do you mean, 'revive the group'?" Mandrake asked him, his brow furrowing. Hamilton's shoulders straightened, perhaps unconsciously, as he addressed his Head of Department directly.

"He said the group fell apart months ago, sir. Apparently their leader's disappeared and no one else had made a move to take over. Actually," and here the young man smirked unpleasantly, "He got a bit fired up at that point, or so I'm told. Said whoever was supposed to step in is a bloody coward for not doing so, and a traitor. According to Marcus, he thinks this person might have also had a hand in the leader's disappearance."

What? Her – a traitor to the Resistance? The cup Penelope had been holding slipped from her grip, which had loosened with shock and indignation, and shattered on the floor, sending lukewarm tea and shards of china in all directions.

"You clumsy fool – clear it up," Trigg barked. Even Hamilton, who was normally courteous to her, was looking at her in annoyance: she had interrupted his story. She bent over, her back complaining again, and began to pick up the fragments of the teacup, piling them on the counter. As she did so, Hamilton proceeded to inform the rest of the room's occupants that the boy was still being questioned, although it seemed as if he had told them as much as he could, as an admittedly low-level member of the former Resistance.

As she reached for a towel to mop up the tea, Penelope glanced over at the group of magicians, only to find Mandrake looking at her with a distracted expression, a slight frown tugging at the corners of his mouth. When he saw that she noticed he averted his eyes lazily, but her heart was pounding again. Somehow she doubted that his slight frown was only due to disapproval at her dropping his tea.

By the time she had cleared up the mess and fixed Mandrake another cup, Hamilton was gone and Ffoukes and Trigg were also standing.

"We'd best be going," Trigg was saying, and threw a glance of deepest scorn in Penelope's direction before leaving, Ffoukes at his heels. Remembering that Ffoukes had spilled tea on the table, Penelope carried a paper towel over as well as Mandrake's cup. She noticed with a certain amount of nervousness that her hand trembled as she set Mandrake's tea in front of him, and hurriedly mopped up the small puddle on the table and took Ffoukes' half-empty cup away.

She moved over to the table where her own abandoned refreshment was still sitting, and tapped the sides of her cup restlessly with the tips of her fingers, alternately staring at the murky brown liquid within and the back of Mandrake's head, which was blurry. Her glasses were still sitting on the counter.

She went over to retrieve them, and poured her tea, which was stone-cold by now anyway, down the drain. As she rinsed out her cup her eyes flicked towards the corner, and what she saw almost caused her to drop this cup, too.

_Cerebaton_!

-

The djinni had returned to earth a day ago, fully recovered. Upon arriving in the mortal world, he had proceeded immediately to Kitty's flat, the way to which he remembered perfectly. What he lacked in the strength the upper-level entities boasted of, he made up for in sharp memory and quick reflexes.

Kitty's flat was near the middle of a cluster of similar homes, all in varying degrees of shabbiness. Kitty's, Cerebaton noticed when he reached his master's house, was by far the most run-down – some of the shutters on the dark, blank windows were even hanging askew. What little grass there was in the tiny yard in front was overgrown, choking the post of the sign that read "For Sale".

All this was a pretty clear indicator that Kitty would not be found there, but Cerebaton had a look inside anyway. A quick inspection of the place revealed that she was, beyond a doubt, gone: there were no personal items or clothing in the dust-covered bureau, nor was there food in the cabinets or refrigerator. Cerebaton had perched on the bare bed and gathered his thoughts. Kitty was gone, but not dead – the fact that he was here was proof enough of that. She had told him that if he didn't find her here (which he had interpreted to mean in her flat), he was to seek out the girl called Penny and obey her as he would his master. Fine – that was clear enough. The problem had been that he only knew her first name, Penelope, and what she looked like. And she could have altered her appearance quite a bit in ten months. He had no idea where she worked or where she lived. In the end, he had decided to search the libraries first, since he knew for a fact that a few Resistance members had been worked in these places, gathering as much information as they could.

For half a day he was unsuccessful. He had visited several libraries, even Mesmerized the men and women at the desks so that they obediently brought up lists of current and previous employees on their computers. But none of the girls around Cerebaton's estimate of Penelope's age had the right name or physical description. Just when he was starting to get truly frustrated, he found her.

Or, rather, he found the library where she had worked ten months ago. Under the influence of Cerebaton's Mesmer, the middle-aged woman at the counter told him that she had abruptly changed jobs several months previously, and the last she had heard Penelope had gone to work for a Mr. Thallimar, whose business was in real estate. Having gotten the address of this man's office, Cerebaton had left the confused and slightly dazed woman blinking at the records on the computer screen, wondering when and why she had opened the file.

While she was working that mystery out, Cerebaton was en route to Thallimar's office. Once there, he discovered that Penelope had changed jobs yet _again_ (what was the _matter_ with this girl?), and was now working in Whitehall.

That had come as something of a surprise: everyone knew that Whitehall was run by magicians. But, Cerebaton had mused as he flew in the admittedly dull guise of a pigeon towards the impressive cluster of buildings at the heart of the west side of London, the magicians might use commoners as clerical workers, errand-runners, that sort of thing. This, he had discovered upon locating Penelope at last in the break room in the Department of Internal Affairs, was precisely the case.

He had spent the better part of the half hour he had been in the corner of the room discretely deflecting the pulses emanating from the sensor in the youngest magician's ear. Every fifteen seconds three of them would ring out in quick succession, and avoiding them without alerting the magician that he was doing so was a delicate task. At last, however, the boy downed the last of his tea. Penelope, who had been hovering over by the sink, went over to take the cup away.

"Put it in the sink; I've had enough," the magician told her, and swept out the room without another word. Penelope grimaced at the door as it swung shut behind the boy, and, to Cerebaton's surprise, turned to look directly at him.

"What are you doing here?" she hissed, the hoarseness of her voice evident even in a whisper, eyes wide behind the wire frames of her glasses. With a quick glance at the door, Cerebaton became a sparrow and flitted over to the sink, landing on the faucet. Now that they were closer, they could talk softly.

"I'm carrying out my orders," he informed her in a low voice, folding his wings neatly. "I couldn't find my master at her flat, and she said that if that happened I was to find you and become your servant instead."

He couldn't help but sound a bit sour; he resented being passed along like an object. Penelope didn't seem to notice his less-than-enthusiastic tone. Rather, she looked elated.

"But you came back!" she said, her voice raspier than ever in excitement. "She's still alive!"

"Yes, yes," Cerebaton said, not about to be caught up in her enthusiasm. "Though I can't imagine her being too pleased at how you've carried on in her absence, if she knows."

Penelope's relieved smile disappeared quickly enough to be alarming. She glared at him before turning her head away, plucking two clean cups off the counter and putting them back in a cabinet.

"Things got complicated," she said after a pause. "I was preoccupied with not being tracked down, which was difficult enough without being roped into working here at Whitehall. And anyway," she said, her tone suddenly bitter, "The rest of them must think I'm at fault for what happened. They don't want anything to do with me."

Cerebaton flitted off the faucet and rapped her sharply on the top of her head with a curled-up foot.

"One boy stupid enough to be captured said that," he told her, disgusted by this display of self-pity. "I suspect his opinion is not widely shared, if at all. You're just making excuses."

Penelope scowled. "That's not important anymore."

"No?"

"Obviously not." She turned around to look at him. "Now that you're here, and I know she's still alive, we have to find her."

She looked satisfied – apparently she had been waiting for a goal of this sort.

"Fine," Cerebaton said, landing on her shoulder. "But you'll need to figure out where to look."

"The only thing she'll need is a good explanation for this," a cold voice said from the doorway. Penelope gasped and whipped around to face the speaker, her face white. John Mandrake, who was leaning against the frame of the door, gave them both a grim smile.


	3. The Mournful Orbs

_Disclaimer_: All canon characters, settings, etc belong to Jonathan Stroud

Anticlimax  
Chapter 2: The Mournful Orbs

Nathaniel's expression was calm, but inwardly he was having difficulty not betraying his excitement. Jessica Whitwell, his previous master, would no doubt have gotten high praise for bringing in a Resistance member from the outside, but that was nothing when compared to uncovering a traitor in their very midst.

"Mr. Mandrake," Penelope began, her hoarse voice shaking. Nathaniel felt a sort of scornful pity for the girl: she was obviously terrified. Her face was white and her pulse was fluttering visibly at her throat. "This is…there's been a…"

"Please." He held up a hand, his tone weary. "I've been here almost since the beginning of your conversation. I don't see how there could have been a mistake. If your friend," here he nodded in the direction of the sparrow on Penelope's shoulder, whose form he could just make out on the third plane (he could therefore conclude that it was a low-level djinni unable to conceal itself fully on any plane higher than the second), "Would be so kind as to reveal himself on all planes…"

The sparrow jumped from Penelope's shoulder, taking the form of a sleek, chocolate-brown cat as it landed on the floor, now visible on all the planes so that Nathaniel could have seen him without his lenses. Its orange eyes glinted fiercely.

"Now," Nathaniel said briskly, ignoring the djinni's hostile stare, "Consider yourself under arrest, Miss Cross. I would advise you against any rash actions, such as attempting to run away."

Penelope, who had shifted her weight forward slightly as if preparing to bolt while Nathaniel was speaking, stood up straighter and frowned. Color was returning to her face, something close to annoyance replacing the shock and fear she had shown earlier. A curious transformation, but it wouldn't do her any good.

Nathaniel folded his arms and allowed the smirk he had been repressing to spread across his face when Penelope nodded at the cat at her feet, which sprang towards the window. At the same time the girl rushed forward, aiming for the door. Nathaniel's hands shot out and closed around Penelope's upper arm just as the Shield he had quietly ordered one of his demons to erect around the room a few minutes earlier prevented her comrade from escaping. With a mighty jerk she pulled free and wrenched the door open, only to be leapt at by a security guard.

The djinni, who had been stunned for a moment by the collision with the subtle Shield, turned and, hissing, fired a Detonation at the guard. It exploded near his feet, sending him and Penelope flying in opposite directions. The cat became a gargoyle in the blink of an eye and leaped towards the slightly dazed girl, only to be caught in the chest by another Detonation, this time cast by Limrick, the djinni Nathaniel had commanded to erect the Shield. The force of the attack blew the gargoyle backwards, and in the few seconds it took for him to recover Limrick had put a Bind on Penelope, who struggled uselessly against its hold. Limrick snapped his fingers lazily and the girl rose a few inches in the air, still squirming against the Bind.

"Cerebaton," she yelled desperately, trying in vain to free her arms, "Get up!"

The djinni clamored to its feet and deflected another Detonation. Limrick sighed in some exasperation and fired three in quick succession: he was quick and powerful, to be sure, but as far as attacks went he had little imagination. It didn't matter: Cerebaton deflected the first two, but, still reeling from the force of the earlier blow, was too slow to block the third and was sent crashing into the opposite wall. The plaster crumbled and bent like cardboard beneath the power of the collision, and the djinni stumbled forward a few steps before falling to the ground, strength spent.

Penelope cried out in shock and despair, and Nathaniel shook his head in mock sorrow.

"I'm afraid you'll need a more powerful servant than that if you're going to try rising up against people like me," he said lightly. "That was one of the less exciting battles between entities I've seen."

Penelope opened her mouth, eyes glinting in fury, but with another wave of Limrick's hand she found herself gagged as well as trapped in the Bind.

"Whatever insult you were planning to hurl at me would only worsen the consequences you're about to suffer," he told her, voice stern. She glared at him with as much dignity as she could muster in her position, which wasn't much.

"Take them both to the Tower and secure them each in separate Mournful Orbs," Nathaniel commanded Limrick. "And then you're free to go."

The djinni bobbed his head and snapped his fingers. The unconscious Cerebaton and the furious Penelope floated still higher in the air, and preceded Nathaniel's servant out the door. Nathaniel glanced at the damage done to the wall of the break room and wrinkled his nose. Really. Who had Penelope thought she was dealing with?

-

When Cerebaton opened his eyes, he didn't know how much time had passed. He stared at the cold marble a few inches in front of his eyes – he was still in the form of the gargoyle – and let the memory of recent events swim up to the surface of his mind.

When they came, he cringed. He had been overpowered quickly and humiliatingly. He had failed Penelope, who had been rendered helpless by his opponents' Bind, and because of that he had also failed his real master.

The faint hum that filled the air caught his attention. It was the sort of thing you either got used to or went mad because of. He lifted his gaze slightly away from the surface he was lying on and saw a web of crisscrossing white lines, the vibrations of which were giving off the eerie hum. He let his gaze travel upwards, and realized that the field curved overhead, forming a dome around him and sealing him in completely. There were no weaknesses, no openings. He was trapped.

"Cerebaton?"

The hoarse whisper had him standing and looking around. On another marble platform, raised high in the air, he could just make out Penelope's form behind another shimmering barrier.

"Penelope!" he hissed, stepping forward. The energy radiating off the strange dome made him wince even at this distance. He moved back again. "Are you all right?"

"Yes, I'm fine. I thought you would never wake up: it must have been hours since they brought us here."

"And where is 'here', exactly?"

Her whisper dropped even further, terror evident in her tone as she replied, "The Tower of London. We're trapped in Mournful Orbs."

Ah. That was a problem.

Cerebaton had heard about these Orbs, even though he had never been unlucky enough to be trapped in one until now. If he so much as brushed the humming force field around him with the tip of his stone wing, his essence would be destroyed. The thought had him backing up into the very center of the platform, looking warily overhead.

"I don't know what to do," Penelope continued. "That Mandrake…he had us outsmarted from the start. What do you suppose…?"

Her voice trailed off, and Cerebaton said, "We'll be questioned, no doubt. They'll want to know everything you do about the Resistance, and about my master's disappearance."

"I'm not telling them anything," Penelope said immediately.

"You'll find that's easier said than done," Cerebaton said darkly. "They'll keep shrinking the Orb until you tell them what they want to know. I know that this thing can destroy my essence in a second; it can probably do severe damage to you, too. It will burn you, at the very least."

Penelope was silent for a moment.

"I won't tell them anything," she repeated at length, her voice soft but determined. "_She's_ still alive – the Resistance can afford to lose me if they've got her."

Cerebaton was about to respond when the sound of a siren rent the air and a popping sound at one corner of the room distracted both of them.

"They're coming," he said grimly, and folded his wings in front of him, steeling himself. A second later a portal appeared, and John Mandrake stepped neatly through. The opening closed behind him as soon as he was all the way into the room, sealing them all in. Though her outline was distorted because of the crackling energy surrounding her, Cerebaton saw Penelope straighten her shoulders defiantly.

The magician stepped onto one of the larger slabs of rock on the floor and snapped his fingers. Smoothly the section of stone rose into the air, until he was on level with the marble platform Penelope was standing on.

"How are you enjoying the Tower, Miss Cross?"

Stony silence was her only response. Mandrake chuckled.

"There's no need to glare at me that way – you brought it upon yourself, I'm afraid. If it's any comfort, know that your stay here could be cut dramatically short…providing you cooperate, of course. I have a few questions for you.

"Ah," he said after a short pause, mouth twitching upwards at the corners. "I expect you've already resolved to stay silent. I regret to inform you that countless others before you did the same, only to find themselves broken down in the end. You are no stronger than they; you will tell me what I want to know eventually."

"Oh, stop trying to sound intimidating," Cerebaton said impatiently, already bored with Mandrake's chatter. "You'll only embarrass yourself."

Mandrake turned his head so that he was staring into Cerebaton's Orb.

"It would, however, be in _your_ best interest to remain silent," he said coldly, and made a mystic sign with his right hand; the Orb around Cerebaton shrank to half its original size. He could feel the barrier vibrating. With a slight smirk, Mandrake turned back to Penelope.

"By the way," he said casually, "I believe you heard Mr. Hamilton telling us about the Resistance member Jessica Whitwell was questioning? It might interest you to know that he has given us the names of three more, all of whom are of a considerably higher rank than he had been. So withholding the name of your leader will do you little good."

"Ignore him," Cerebaton spoke up again despite his prickling essence, for he had seen Penelope flinch, "He could be lying,"

Another gesture; the Orb shrank even more, so that Cerebaton was forced to take on the form of the cat again to keep the vibrating field from grazing his head. Still Penelope remained quiet. So far, so good…but she hadn't been threatened yet.

"I'll ask you, then," Mandrake said, the stone slab he was standing upon inching nearer to Penelope's platform. "What is your leader's name?"

Silence.

"You have one more chance to answer, and then your Orb starts shrinking," Mandrake warned. "What is her name?"

Penelope didn't speak, and with a signal from Mandrake her Orb began to shrink. Rather than quickly dropping to a fraction of its original size as Cerebaton's had done, it slowly began to creep inwards.

"I can see you're frightened; you can't conceal it," Mandrake said, eyes glittering. No doubt he was gloating inwardly. His tone turned from mocking to almost gentle in a heartbeat: "All you have to do is give me the name, and the Orb will expand again. I'd rather you weren't harmed, actually."

"I'll bet," Cerebaton muttered. His Orb shrank another few inches warningly. The dome above Penelope's head was a third lower than it had been before, and still it shrank at the same steady, maddening pace.

"Penelope," Mandrake persisted, the kindness he was forcing into his voice more horrifying than persuasive, given the situation, "Tell me her name. Think about it: what harm could it possibly do? Your leader has disappeared; she's probably hundreds of miles away from London by now. We have almost no hope of finding her even if you tell us who she is."

And if she doesn't tell you the name, you have no hope at all, Cerebaton finished silently. Apparently Penelope was thinking the same thing: her mouth stayed resolutely closed. She had paled again, though – Cerebaton could tell even through the shimmering barrier of the Orbs. Her Orb had shrunk by another third of its original size. A moment later Penelope sank down so that she was sitting on the marble platform so as to evade the crackling energy.

"Penelope," Mandrake said, his tone one of urgency now, "You can stop the Orb. Just say the name and you'll be safe."

Penelope drew her legs up to her chin: the sides of the Orb were now too close for her to keep them stretched out too far. Her lips were pressed so tightly together that they were as white as her face. There was a slight sizzling sound – the loose hairs drifting around the end of her dark braid were too close to the barrier. She snaked a hand around the back of her neck and pulled the braid over the front of her shoulder, hunching her shoulders so that she was almost curled up into a ball. With a sigh, Mandrake snapped his fingers. The Orb stopped shrinking, though it was small enough to ensure that Penelope would soon be extremely uncomfortable, since she had to remain curled up to avoid touching any part of the dome.

"I have to admit, you've shown more grit than I thought you had," Mandrake said casually. "But it can only get worse from here. I wasn't, as your spirit companion seems to believe, lying when I said I'd rather you weren't hurt…" Cerebaton scoffed softly at this, but for once it went ignored. "…However, if you insist on being difficult, I'm afraid that's what this will come to. I'll ask you one last time: what is your leader's name?"

Cerebaton saw Penelope clamp her eyes shut, arms tight around her legs. A soft whimper escaped her, but no more. Mandrake waited for several minutes, and upon receiving no answer sighed in something that, had it been from anyone else, Cerebaton would have interpreted as regret. "Very well – you've forced my hand."

And the Orb continued to shrink.

* * *

_Author's Note_: Sorry about the wait. If it's not too presumptuous of me after such a long delay, I'd like to beg for feedback. It's extremely important to me that I write the canon characters correctly, and also that my original characters are realistic. Any advice you have to offer would be much appreciated. Thanks! 


	4. Down the Rabbit Hole

_Disclaimer: All recognizable settings and characters belong to Jonathan Stroud. Don't sue._

Anticlimax  
Chapter 3: Down the Rabbit Hole

Penelope gasped and tried in vain to curl up more tightly. Never before had she wished so mightily that she could change shape. She felt a little stab of envy towards Cerebaton underneath her terror. Even though fear was clouding her brain and making it impossible for her to think clearly, it did have one benefit: it made it impossible for her to use her voice. Had she been able to do anything but stammer, she would have blurted out Kitty's name. As it was, she couldn't betray her leader. Better to die so that the Resistance had a chance of regrouping than to live without any hope of a future revolution.

She felt her skin begin to sting as if with sunburn as the humming white lines, which she could barely make out on the seventh plane. The wire rims on her glasses were getting uncomfortably warm where they touched her skin, but she couldn't shake them off without touching the edges of the Orb. There was another sizzling sound – loose strands of her hair were no doubt being burned away. Penelope closed her eyes – a few moments more, and she would be incinerated. A loud wailing filled her ears, and she wondered for a moment if it could be coming from her despite the fact that she was biting her lip so hard that it was bleeding.

Then, to her surprise and even frustration, the Orb expanded a foot or so. What – was this all part of the torture? Would she go through the same agonizing process again and again as Mandrake attempted to wear her down?

The wailing sound stopped abruptly, and through the white lines she could see a mud-colored blur join Mandrake on his platform. Penelope concentrated and switched her focus from the seventh plane to the fourth – although she had the gift to see on all the planes to some degree, she could only view one at a time – and the figure of a man in the standard uniform of a prison guard came into clear view.

"…The other prisoners," he was telling Mandrake. "And we got names from two."

"Names? I only wanted the name of their leader," Mandrake said with a slight frown. The man bobbed his head and responded, "Sir, both of them gave a different name when asked for their leader's identity."

"One or both of them could be an alias," Mandrake said dismissively, waving a hand.

The guard nodded again and looked at Penelope askance. "Only one of them, I think. The first prisoner – one Andrew Howard, fairly high-level in the Resistance – told us that their leader was Penelope Cross, here."

Penelope felt her insides turn to ice, and then water. So it seemed the order of succession Kitty had implemented was still in use. Mandrake spun on his platform to face her. He was no doubt carefully controlling his expression, but Penelope thought she saw a glint of skepticism in his eyes. She felt a ripple of indignation, but considered her position – curled up in a tight ball, hair singed, skin red from the energy radiating off of the Orb – she looked too pitiful to be the leader of a troop of girl scouts, much less an organization that threatened to topple the weakening government.

"Interesting," Mandrake said at length. "And what was the other name?"

"Obviously an alias, sir – it's the name of a girl who's been dead for a while now: Kitty Jones."

-

Cerebaton watched Mandrake's reaction to Kitty's name with interest. Although he kept his expression carefully controlled for the most part, shock had registered on his face for a fraction of a second, and it made his body tense up. His voice, however, was as irritatingly casual as ever when he said, "Impossible. Kitty Jones died three years ago – her file is permanently sealed."

"Yes, sir," the guard responded promptly. "No doubt Cross is using it as an alias."

"No doubt," Mandrake repeated slowly. Cerebaton didn't like the expression on his face when he glanced at Penelope again: it was curious and calculating. Cerebaton doubted that the magician really believed it.

_Just how much will he be able to guess?_

Cerebaton returned his attention to Penelope, whom he had been watching with mild concern throughout her interrogation. He was startled that she hadn't blurted out Kitty's name, but he decided it was probably due to fear. For all her renewed determination at his reappearance, Penelope didn't strike him as particularly courageous. The fact that she hadn't carried on the Resistance was proof enough of that.

Mandrake waved the guard away. The sirens blared again as a portal in the wall appeared, then abruptly died away once it closed behind the guard. Mandrake turned to Penelope, who risked a small movement in order to swipe away the trickle of blood that was running down her chin.

"Well," he said after an ugly silence. "It appears I've underestimated you. I'll admit the thought that _you_ might be the ringleader of the Resistance never crossed my mind."

Penelope either couldn't or chose not to respond.

"Frankly," the magician continued, his voice cold. "I find it impossible to believe. For one thing, there has been no Resistance activity since the night of the explosion. For another, you were careless enough to allow yourself to get caught. Third, I heard enough of your conversation to gather that whoever you planned to seek out was significantly more important than you."

Mandrake snapped his fingers and his floating platform drew as close to the Orb as possible.

"Rest assured, Ms. Cross, that you won't even uncurl yourself on that platform until you tell me everything you know about Kitty Jones."

-

Nathaniel waited, his body tense. His mind was racing furiously.

On one hand, Kitty Jones had died a long time ago. Her file had been sealed, and no one had ever heard from her again. On the other hand, Penelope Cross was possibly one of the least likely people to lead a movement against the Empire…and he hadn't actually seen Kitty die. There was a chance – a infinitesimal chance – that she could be alive.

In the silence that stretched on and on he struggled with conflicting facts and possibilities, until he came to the conclusion that the only way he would know was if Penelope talked. Unfortunately, she was proving more stubborn than he thought she would. He regarded her for a moment, curled up in the middle of the crackling sphere of energy, and glanced at the djinni Cerebaton. He, too, was crouched low in his pentacle in the form of the brown cat, ears pulled flat either in aggression or in an attempt to evade his own Orb. His mind began to churn again.

Cerebaton wasn't a djinni of any respectable might, but he was probably the most powerful entity a bunch of untrained commoners could manage to summon. He, too, might have worked closely with the Resistance leader, whoever that was.

"One of you," he said aloud, looking back and forth between the two prisoners, "Will give me information. I am content to wait – I'm in a considerably more comfortable position than either of you."

The two prisoners shared a quick look. Nathaniel folded his arms, tapping a foot impatiently. It seemed he would have to start shrinking the Orbs again. He raised a hand to make the sign without hesitation, although he had always found this particular aspect of interrogation distasteful. Hopefully Penelope's better nature would overpower her desire to say nothing as she watched Cerebaton's Orb shrink.

A subtle glance in her direction as Cerebaton was forced to change form confirmed his guess: Penelope looked distinctly agitated as she watched the djinni twist in discomfort. Finally, when Cerebaton was pressed into taking on the undistinguished guise of a lizard in order to avoid his shrinking orb, she called out, "Stop!"

He casually halted the Orb's progress and looked in her direction.

"Yes?"

"Don't, Penelope," Cerebaton said warningly, though his tone was weak. He would rather escape the Orb than protect his true master's identity – this was clear. The girl shook her head apologetically at the djinni and looked appealingly at Nathaniel.

"I don't know what happened to Kitty," she said, "But I can tell you about how I came to meet her and…and what happened the night she disappeared."

"Excellent," he said in what he hoped was an agreeable tone, and signaled the Orb to expand enough so that Penelope could sit up straight. He wasn't ready to believe that she was wholly ignorant of Kitty's whereabouts…but then, considering her previous foolishness in allowing herself to be overheard and captured, it was admittedly possible. "Take your time."

To the side he heard Cerebaton snort, but he let it pass unacknowledged. Penelope drew herself up and smoothed her hair, the loose strands of which were standing out around her face, frizzing with the energy of the Orb. Her skin was still slightly red.

"I first met Kitty two years ago, in a back alley."

"Appropriate," Nathaniel muttered. Penelope frowned, but continued without comment.

"It was late, and I was out past curfew…which I think was midnight at the time. It wasn't strictly my fault," she added defensively, "I took on an extra shift at work. By the time I left to go home it was after three in the morning. I was accosted by a member of the Night Police and a foliot, both of whom were on patrol. Naturally I was scared, even more so because the foliot attacked me immediately. It happened quickly, but I had caught it around the neck as it grasped at me, and it seemed to do damage. The foliot screeched and let go, and the man pulled out a jolt stick and advanced on me.

"Before he could do anything, though, a sphere smashed on the ground between us and he was suddenly caught up in a whirlwind. Someone yanked me backwards, out of the way of the wind, which changed to water and then to fire."

"An Elemental Sphere," Nathaniel remarked thoughtfully. "I seem to recall a theft from a supply store around that time."

Penelope shrugged. "I don't know anything about that. At the time I didn't even know what the sphere was."

"Unsurprising. Continue, if you will."

Penelope shifted slightly and picked up the thread of her story.

"Right. Someone pulled me out of the way of the Sphere's energies, but in the confusion I didn't see who it was at first. The foliot, which had by then recovered slightly, leapt for the person who had thrown the Sphere, but she – because by then I saw it was a girl – simply caught it around the neck, squeezed, and it burst."

Nathaniel nodded. He had done some research and knew about the unusual abilities that many former Resistance members possessed. This had explained Kitty's easy victory over his mouler and imp.

"By then the man had changed into his wolf form, but fainted as soon as the Sphere's energies dissipated. The girl asked if I was all right, introduced herself as Kitty, and commented on my apparent resilience. She accompanied me back to my apartment, and told me about the Resistance there. Obviously I had no great affection for the government, given the attack I had narrowly escaped, and I agreed to join the group. I was the third to join – the two who became members before me died as a result of the debacle ten months ago."

"Were you aware that Kitty was supposed dead by the government?"

"Not until I had known her for a year."

"Penelope," Cerebaton called out, sounding deeply annoyed. "I think you've said more than enough. What are you playing at, anyway?"

"What was I supposed to do?" she snapped in return, turning away from Nathaniel to glare at the irate djinni. "Would you have preferred to die?"

"Humans," Cerebaton said scornfully. "You're all far too soft-hearted. Those who _have_ hearts, anyway," he added with a pointed look at Nathaniel, who quirked an eyebrow.

"You speak of saying too much, when you've been steadily pressing your luck by goading a _heartless_ magician. One who, I might add, controls the size of your prison," Nathaniel remarked acidly. Cerebaton, apparently unable to come up with a suitable response, glowered at him from his Orb. Nathaniel turned back to Penelope.

"Did anything else happen that night?"

"Nothing of any significance – Kitty left and I went to bed soon after, after we had arranged to meet at the flat of one of the other members the next day."

"And the night Kitty disappeared?" Nathaniel asked. Penelope was silent for a moment, apparently reluctant to discuss the incident. She twisted her hands in her lap and said, "It wasn't supposed to go as badly as it did."

"Actions that end in disaster rarely do," Nathaniel couldn't help but comment.

"The initial plan was to raid one of the warehouses for magical weapons. Six of us agreed to go along with Kitty. Well, five agreed, one was pressured into going."

"What do you mean?"

"One of the girls – Sera – was younger than the rest of us. Joey – he was sort of the second-in-command – thought that making her come along would be a sort of initiation, since Sera had only joined the week before. He managed to goad her into coming along even though Kitty was doubtful. Once we reached the warehouse, Lucas incapacitated one of the security guards and stole his key. We let ourselves in through the back entrance and split up. Each of us grabbed something different – not much, since we didn't want to stay too long. Joey took Inferno sticks."

Here she paused, collecting herself.

"I was headed back towards the door when it burst open and four men came charging in. Apparently another patrolman we didn't know about saw us go in and had alerted the Night Police. Two of the men transformed and one attacked Sera. All of us were panicking, but Kitty shouted for us to head for the door. She threw one of her spheres at the wolves, and Joey lit one of his Inferno sticks and threw that…but without looking. I didn't see what it hit, but there was an explosion just as I ran out the door. Soon half the building was in flames."

She drew in an unsteady breath and continued, "I thought for sure that all of them had died, but then Kitty came bursting out of the door just before a section of the warehouse collapsed, calling Cerebaton. By then more wolves had arrived. I ran for the side of the fence that faced the river, but before I got there one of the wolves jumped on me. It tore open my back but somehow I managed to shake it off, and I scaled the fence and jumped into the river. By the time they changed into their human forms, climbed the fence, and chased after me, the water had washed away my scent and they lost my trail. I don't know what happened to Kitty after that."

Penelope hugged her knees and watched Nathaniel's face, but he didn't betray his thoughts with an unconscious expression. Her story hadn't been very informative – he had been able to piece together what had happened in the warehouse without much trouble. It was what happened after Kitty was cornered on the rooftop that he wanted to know. By the time he had arrived on the scene there was only one dead man on the roof, a huge crater in the street and traces of powerful, unknown magic.

He had recovered from his initial surprise that Kitty had survived. He actually should have expected it – it had been Bartimaeus who had told him she died, after all. Who in their right mind would take everything a djinni said as truth? Especially a djinni with a chip on his shoulder. No doubt Bartimaeus had protected Kitty in this manner just to spite him.

"Interesting," he offered at length. "However, it doesn't shed light on Kitty's disappearance at all."

"Look," Penelope said, sounding annoyed, "I told you that I don't know how she disappeared. And from what I've heard, no one around here has the first clue, either. The only way you're going to get the full story is if you find Kitty and get her to tell you herself. And do you even know where you would start looking?"

Nathaniel couldn't suppress a smug smile. "As a matter of fact, I have a general idea. Don't be so quick to underestimate me. It's already landed you in a Mournful Orb," he pointed out. Penelope scowled.

"And you'll hunt her down just so you can tie up a few loose ends?"

"You seem to be forgetting that, now that I know she's alive, Kitty Jones is a wanted criminal," he remarked lightly.

"Say you find her – what then?" Penelope asked.

"That's not your concern," he told her firmly.

A discreet cough from the other Orb had both of them looking around. Cerebaton, in the form of a moth, flapped his wings meaningfully in Nathaniel's direction.

"_You _seem to be forgetting something," he said in the loudest voice his insect form would allow. "As Kitty's servant I got to know her a bit better than Penelope here, and she told me about an intriguing incident that happened almost three years ago."

He paused significantly, and Nathaniel felt his spine stiffen.

"Unless you really _are _heartless, would you really imprison someone who saved your life twice over?"

"What?" Penelope exclaimed. "She never told me–"

"There was a lot she didn't tell any of you," Cerebaton said flatly. Penelope closed her mouth, looking bewildered. Nathaniel leveled a glare in the djinni's direction, although he couldn't be certain if it was on the mark or not, given the entity's size.

"That was her decision, and if she had more self-interest she wouldn't have done it. Instead she left the door open for me to pursue her."

"Knowing Kitty, she probably had a better opinion of you than that," the djinni returned. "Lord knows _why_," he added under his breath.

Nathaniel felt his temper rise, and fought the urge to shrink Cerebaton's Orb again. What was really frustrating was that a satisfying response wasn't coming to him. Penelope was looking at him, grey eyes flashing accusingly. It certainly didn't help.

"I'll find her," he said, staring at each of them in an attempt to make them drop their eyes. "We'll see what happens then. But don't forget: I have a duty to this country, one that I plan on fulfilling."

"Even if you did manage to find out where she was, you wouldn't be able to catch her," Cerebaton said confidently. "She successfully escaped your notice for almost three years – what makes you think she'd be any easier to find and capture now?"

"Not believing she's _dead_ is a good start," Nathaniel said dryly.

"If you really want to find out how she disappeared," Penelope put in unexpectedly, "She would have to feel like she could trust you before telling you anything. If you caught her and interrogated her, I don't think she'd be willing to talk to you about that night. Most likely she'd refuse to say anything."

"And she'd do a better job of it than you," Cerebaton remarked.

"Shut up," Penelope muttered. Nathaniel smirked, an idea forming in the back of his mind.

"So she'd have to trust me before she'd tell me anything," he repeated, tilting his head and looking at Penelope. "I'd somehow have to convince her that I mean her no harm, that I'm only trying to get the rest of the story and put my mind at rest. How do you think I'd accomplish that?"

"If you hunted her down and caused her trouble after what she did for you, I don't think you _could_ gain her trust," Penelope told him shortly.

"Let me tell you what I know," Nathaniel said. "Here, stand up."

He gestured and Penelope's Orb expanded quickly, giving her room to stand at last. He glanced at Cerebaton but left his Orb where it was – the djinni had gotten under his skin, after all.

"I said before that I had a general idea as to where Kitty is. That's because the same day she disappeared I had been warned about three suspicious men wandering around the area. They had American accents and didn't seem like ordinary tourists – someone smelled incense around them, and they appeared to be scoping out the area. We sent out government officials dressed as civilians to keep an eye on them. At about the time of the explosion one of the officials gave me a call. They were moving suddenly towards a run-down neighborhood. Unfortunately we lost track of them, but it's very possible that they had a hand in the incident at Kitty's flat. Since then we've heard nothing about them."

"You think American spies had a hand in Kitty's disappearance?" Penelope said incredulously. Nathaniel nodded.

"There has been a lull in activity in the colonies as well," he added. "A lull that's lasted almost eleven months. Coincidence?"

"Possibly," Penelope said, her tone uncertain.

"I have more than enough reason to believe that Kitty is in America, though how or why she came to be there is something I can only guess at."

"You want to go all the way to America in order to find her," Penelope stated flatly.

"It's enemy territory. She could be giving them information," Nathaniel pointed out. "That's reason enough to seek her out."

"It's insane. And that still doesn't tell me how you're going to gain her trust. If you even find her, that is."

"It's simple," he said calmly. "You'll convince her for me."

"W…What?"

"You'll accompany me to America," he said slowly. "And if the fact that you – a trusted friend of hers – traveled with me and arrived unharmed isn't enough to convince her that I'm trustworthy, then you'll prove it to her. You're her ally – she'll believe you."

"And what makes you think I'll do that when I know you just want to 'fulfill your duty to the country' and lock her up?"

"You were already planning to find her," Nathaniel observed, "And it's very possible that she isn't a willing informant, but a prisoner. If that's the case, as it well may be, would your conscience allow you to pass up this chance to save her? If you don't come with me, you'll remain here in this Orb."

Penelope was silent for a long while, considering. At length she looked up and said, "I'll go…but only if Cerebaton comes as well."

"Good!" the djinni piped up from his Orb. "Very good! I'm glad to see you've got some sort of brain rattling around in that skull."

"You're not helping yourself," Penelope snapped, and Cerebaton fell silent. Nathaniel frowned, glancing back and forth between them. If the djinni was coming, he would have to summon a servant of his own. Not Limrick – although suitably powerful, he could be outsmarted too easily. And all of his other servants either just matched or didn't measure up to Cerebaton's power as djinni, meager though it was. And his other option wasn't one he liked considering, especially after discovering he had been deceived, but…

"Very well," he conceded, albeit reluctantly. "I'll bring along a servant as well – Bartimaeus."

* * *

_Author's Note: _It took a while, but here it is, and I'm actually okay with how it turned out. Quite the dysfunctional group if you ask me, but there you go. I just love writing arguments between these characters, so it's going to be hard to restrain myself. If I get out of hand in the future and it starts slowing the story down, you might want to let me know.

Feedback is appreciated, if you want to give it. Thanks to everyone who's reviewed so far – I love you guys, and your comments have been very helpful!


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